


i was born in the city (all my friends are here)

by blurryfaced



Category: GOT7
Genre: Drinking, Fluff, Gender Exploration, Kinda, Maybe - Freeform, Multi, Non-binary character, blowjob, genderfluid yugyeom, i hope this is what you wanted lmao, i kept it lighter than i would have due to the requester's wishes!!, lapslock, sexuality exploration, talk of gender roles, there's like one scene in this that's rated m, this was very interesting to write tbh, you decide!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-10
Updated: 2016-11-10
Packaged: 2018-08-29 10:25:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8485759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blurryfaced/pseuds/blurryfaced
Summary: yugyeom wonders — has wondered for a while, truthfully — and, with encouragement, finally finds comfort.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [yugyeomficfest](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/yugyeomficfest) collection. 



> i'd like to just say that i'm really not sure what the requester wanted because the request was kinda open but i tried my best!! a lot of these experiences are based off of my own situation, being genderfluid myself, so if this isn't accurate to your feelings with gender, please don't take it personally, because everyone deals with it differently!!
> 
> that said, i did take a lighter tone with everything as the requester didn't want it too upsetting, however i may possibly write more in the future if it receives a good audience, haha. i don't think this is all in chronological order, as it's more snippets than a long-winded fic, so if there seems to be jumps in time, please just bear with it!! it's not meant to be something that follows a linear timeline.
> 
> i hope you enjoy yourselves!!
> 
> —mack

it’s been on his mind for quite a few years. not necessarily a weight, more a curiosity. a curiosity for something enforced on the half of the population that he’s not part of. a curiosity for the customs, expectations, appearance of that other half. he watches them in amazement, loses himself in the mannerisms they grow into, the nature that surrounds them all. it’s delicate and soft in a way he isn’t, in a way his half of the population could never be. it makes him sad.

he wants to join in. there was one time, when he was young, that he toddled over to one of them and said her dress was really pretty and he wanted one like that. she just smiled at him and pulled him over to her friends. they didn’t get him a dress, but he sat there happily for half an hour with them playing with his hair, clips and hairbands sliding through the strands. parents around them cooed at how nice he was, to indulge the little girls in their games.

his mother wanted to rid him of the hair accessories as soon as they were in the car. he told her no, said he wanted to keep them on a little longer. he wanted to bask in the feeling that had settled in him, that childish happiness that only comes about when you’re truly allowed to dip your toes into what you truly love, what makes you feel like you belong. he’d been told not to act like a child, he was a big boy! he was six and he needed to act his age. because six-year-old boys didn’t wear pink bows in their hair.

he didn’t understand it then. and he trusted every word his parents said, so he agreed. he didn’t ask for the girly accessories he yearned for when they went out shopping, or cute little clothes he would crave to try on. instead, he went along with his mother and father, along with what society told him he liked, what he wanted to wear and how he ought to behave. it didn’t stop him from looking. 

and he grows into something comfortable. he doesn’t hate his body, oh no. he likes wearing his jeans and his dark t-shirts. likes his sneakers and his boots and his leather shoes. his name doesn’t bother him, he’s never wanted another one. don’t misunderstand, he’s quite content in his own skin.

he just has days. he has days where every slip of _he_ , _him_ , or _his_ directed at him makes his mood drop a little. he has days where he refuses to look at himself in the mirror as he grows, knowing he’ll spy a sharp jaw and a defined nose, sharp edges that just aren’t coded to be round and smooth. he has days where he doesn’t admire the female sex any more, but doesn’t admire the male sex either; he’s strung in a limbo in between, somewhere between happy for his flat chest and disgusted by the bulge that sits between his legs.

but those days don’t last long. maybe one or two a month, if that. it slowly melts into a routine that he can’t complain about. it’s his life. he will grow up to be the man society has told him to be and he will continue to admire the things he truly wants from far away without interruption.

 

 

 

 

jackson’s grasping his hand and pulling him along down the street. it doesn’t feel as weird as it should, or as weird as the looks they’re getting insinuate it should. and that’s probably a good thing, yugyeom reflects, shooting a small look down at their linked hands. mark’s walking on jackson’s other side, and instead has his arm interlinked with the chinese man’s, hands shoved into his pockets.

the three of them are on a mission, moving purposefully towards the small supermarket placed only a short walk away from their dorm. well, realistically speaking, it’s jackson’s mission, to retrieve food that he’d eaten that hadn’t been his and had in fact had jinyoung looking dejected and pouting until youngjae and mark’s reasoning had managed to placate everything.

how yugyeom and mark got dragged along with him is a bit of a mystery, followed by touches and jackson’s happy gaze about not walking out alone.

for once, it’s not really raining. so they don’t have to hurry past shop windows and the youngest of the trio has the time to let his gaze wander across the objects up for purchase. there’s a lot of food on display, a handful of coffee shops and one jewellery store. none of them capture much of yugyeom’s attention until they pass a clothes shop.

on one of the mannequins is a black skater skirt, cinched gently at the waist. there’s what looks to be small and delicate looking embroidery around the hem in a gentle off-white that makes it all appear soft. it looks sweet, probably far too comfortable to wear to be legal, if he’s honest with himself. _it doesn’t look tight_ , he thinks, _it looks like you could move freely with it on_.

yugyeom doesn’t realise he’s stopped in front of the window until jackson calls his name out.

there’s a sheepish smile now living on his face when he jogs over to them, brushing off jackson’s inquiries. mark merely raises his eyebrows, looking past the tall man to the window he’d been peering into. none of them mention anything when they finally enter the supermarket. in the back of yugyeom’s mind, the skirt resides.

 

 

 

 

it’s late afternoon on a friday night when kunpimook drags his suitcases through the bedroom door. he looks dead on his feet, a little pale and ready to fall head first onto his bed. which he does, only it’s yugyeom’s bed, and he very narrowly misses smacking his forehead on yugyeom’s thigh.

yugyeom shifts a little, sending one last look at his phone screen — a picture of him dressed up in the _dumb dumb_ dress and wig from their recent concert stares back at him — and runs a free hand through kunpimook’s hair. “long flight?”

kunpimook shrugs. “no longer than usual. there was a baby, though. or maybe… four.”

yugyeom laughs quietly and continues to brush his best friend’s hair out of his eyes. “at least here you can relax without childish crying.”

“oh, so you plan on going to sleep straight away tonight?”

there’s a yelp and a thud as kunpimook is practically kicked off the bed.

not surprisingly he stays on the floor, stretching his arms and legs out. it’s not very comfortable, something digging into the back of his skull, but he’s too tired to care. “how have you been?”

“okay,” yugyeom offers, pressing his back into the pillow leaning against the wall once more. his eyes stray to his phone, to the way the dress clings to him and the wig falls past his shoulders. “the usual.”

he doesn’t see kunpimook’s answer, if he pulls a face, instead continues scrolling through the fansite’s photos. it had been a shock when it had been announced to them. there was that feeling of curiosity in the pit of his belly again. he’d tried the dress on in private the first time and spent a good ten minutes just walking around his room, sitting on his bed, figuring out how to act with some modesty. the red hadn’t looked too bad on his skin and that sudden urge to buy all the dresses he’d wanted during his infancy had hit him like a truck.

even now, as he’s looking through the pictures at his own laughing and smiling face, he can remember the way the skirt of the dress felt as it swished from side to side, and those knee-high socks were warm, hugging his legs. he’s filled with an urge to put it on again.

there’s an unease that settles on him and he blinks quickly, moving his gaze away from the phone. he spies kunpimook, who’s staring at him with slightly narrowed eyes, sat on the floor with an arm on his bed, leaning heavily against the mattress.

“where’s your bag?” kunpimook asks, resting his chin on his arm.

yugyeom blinks dumbly at him. “huh?”

“your make-up bag,” the thai man clarifies, eyebrows raising over lidded, tired eyes. “where is it?”

he catches on and shifts a little, leaning forward and shaking his head. _I want you to_. “no, bambamie, you’re too tired, you don’t need—”

“I want to.”

yugyeom plays with his bottom lip between his teeth. there’s a small moment of guilt in him, unease, as he knows very much that his best friend should sleep and rest. their sleeping schedules have long since gone out the window, using any free time to sleep and not caring if that forces them to be up at four in the morning. so the idea of kunpimook waiting until evening to sleep is ridiculous.

but this is why they’re close friends, yugyeom thinks. even when they’re exhausted, they’ll do things for each other. like those times where kunpimook got sick and everybody else had had enough of him whining, to which yugyeom had to care for him between showers and changing and wanting nothing more than to rest. all those times they’d stayed up till three in the morning just talking to each other.

the youngest sighs, shoulders drooping. he just his chin out towards the chest of drawers. “bottom drawer, under the scarves.”

kunpimook grins widely and shuffles over on the floor, pulling the drawer open, he roots about until he finds the unsuspecting black bag and pulls it free. he shuffles back on his knees, unzipping the bag and peeking at the contents. it’s nothing he hasn’t seen before, but it’s a routine they share.

diligently, yugyeom shifts on his bed and locks his phone screen, placing it on the nightstand. kunpimook sits beside him, hiding a yawn behind his hand. guilt instils in the korean man once more but before he can say a thing, a look is being sent his way. he keeps his mouth shut and closes his eyes when he spies his best friend pulling out concealer, ready for the makeover to begin.

“you know, I saw a lot of dresses during my vacation that you would have looked good in,” kunpimook begins, touches light but determined. yugyeom can just imagine him tilting his head as he messes about with more of yugyeom’s make-up.

the youngest of the two chews on his bottom lip, licking it soon after. “… yeah?”

“yeah.” there are fingers on his chin, gently tilting his head this way and that as more and more is added to his face in controlled strokes. “a lot of them were black, mainly. really flowy, too. with pretty necklines.”

his eyelid twitches a little when it’s patted gently and stroked. the great care kunpimook puts into this, into making yugyeom look nice and pretty even though his whole body probably aches, makes him smile. “they sound nice.”

“do you like lace, though?”

“lace?”

“yeah. some of them had it around the hems.”

the brush against his lids keeps moving higher and higher, even going so far as to dip into his inner corners. he wonders what colours he’s going to be sporting today, if his best friend is remembering a tutorial from years ago or if he’s making it up on the fly.

“I… don’t know?” feather light touches to his cheeks make him want to laugh but he manages to contain himself. “I’ve never really worn anything with lace.”

kunpimook laughs, and the brush leaves his face for a second. it’s a sound he’s missed, he’s not going to deny, and he lets himself smile wide as it washes over him until a smack to his shoulder and a brief _yah!_ have his smile shrinking to a smirk. “you should really try new things, yugyeom-ah. maybe even other colours.”

at this, he raises his eyebrows but keeps his eyes closed. he likes this, the surprise of what he’s going to look like. he fiddles with the sleeve of his jumper, nervous and excited, already anticipating the softer curves to his face. “what are you talking about? you literally said most of my wardrobe was pink!”

“yellow suits you, you know.”

yugyeom pulls a face which earns him yet another smack to the shoulder. the two sit in silence for the next few minutes it takes for kunpimook to finish; something drags thickly along yugyeom’s lips and there are light, finishing touches darting around his cheeks and jaw. there’s the sound of scrambling and then a tissue is being pressed against his mouth.

he presses the paper between his lips and blots obediently, taking it from his mouth and folding it in his hands.

“look up,” kunpimook says.

yugyeom opens his eyes and looks up. the mascara is easy to apply, no nervous twitching on yugyeom’s part or too quick movements from kunpimook that could leave either of them blind. it’s quick and soon enough tanned hands are fanning just in front of the youngest’s face.

“maybe you should try purple,” the thai man suggests with a cock to his head. his eyes dart over his friend’s face until he gives it a nod, dropping his hands into his lap.

“really,” yugyeom says, picking up his make-up bag and riffling around until he finds his mirror. he pulls it out and unclasps it. “you’re going to try and get me new outfits now.”

“hey!” he slaps playfully at the mirror, whining when yugyeom uses his height advantage by holding it out of the boy’s reach with a long arm. he huffs and sits back, rubbing at his face. “but, yeah. purple. maybe lilac, really. you look good in pastel colours.”

yugyeom’s eyes roam over his reflection and it still makes his heart beat frantically and loudly in his chest. his jaw is more rounded, more feminine, his nose not so pronounced and his cheeks fuller, with a healthy pink hue beneath them. his lips are painted a sultry red and the browns and golds on his eyelids shimmer in the warm light filtering in through the window.

“… thanks, bambam.”

kunpimook smiles, something small and gentle. he moves forward, pressing a hand on yugyeom’s thigh as he leans in to kiss the boy’s cheek gently. “maybe think about getting a lilac cardigan? one of those big ones that hides your hands.”

he gets off the bed and wanders over to his own, pulling the pillow back to grab at his pyjamas. “you look really cute with those.”

 

 

 

 

you could call it routine, he thinks. maybe.

it’s early morning and he’s hit with insomnia despite it being one of the rare breaks in their schedule that normally the seven of them try and use to sleep as many hours as possible before the next show appearance or choreography or song needs their attention. and yet, here he is, awake at almost eight in the morning with no hopes of sleeping, wearing the loosest pair of trousers he could find, a tank top tucked away into them and tight on his torso underneath one of the few women’s jumpers he’d allowed himself the luxury to buy.

he doesn’t feel comfortable in his own body this morning. the few hours he had managed to sleep had been broken by a toilet trip that lead to dysphoria hitting him square in the chest like a freight train. it had frightened him — still frightens him now — because it has never been that strong before, the urge has never filled him to the brim enough that he can’t even look at any part of his body without feeling queasy.

the soft material of the women’s jumper feels nice on his skin and he smells of a women’s perfume sample he’d smuggled home one day when they’d been out and about under the pretence of showing it to his mother when he next saw her. he pulls at the sleeves until they cover his hands, marvelling at how they’re long enough to only suffer a small strain, and presses them against his cheeks, closing his eyes.

at times like these it’s easy to slip into a world where he can be in control of what he looks like. shorter, curvier in the right places. smaller hands and feet, rounder jaw. he amuses himself with the idea of long hair, or a bob, or even keeping his hair as short as it is now. maybe just styled differently. would he want to be smooth all over? women shaved, didn’t they?

it's a routine, because he’s dragged out of his imagination by hands on his wrists guiding them away from his face. it’s a routine because there are two members moving about sleepily on the sofa, the living room light on and blinding yugyeom for a minute.

the three of them form a line on the sofa, youngjae in front of him with three different nail polishes resting in his hands, waiting for yugyeom to pick, and mark behind him, gently easing the wig cap and wig onto his head, securing it in place before he runs his fingers through it.

and that’s how jaebum finds them when he drags himself out of bed and into the kitchen. his throat is dry when he sees youngjae asleep, curled against yugyeom’s chest with his face pressed against the maknae’s throat; yugyeom has his _dumb dumb_ wig on, french plaited and dangling delicately over one shoulder, framing his face just right; and mark’s pressed up against his back, arms slipped around his waist and cheek squished against the youngest member’s shoulder. it’s sweet and tugs at something inside jaebum.

he swallows and winces, reaching up a hand to rub at his neck, wandering into the kitchen for that goddamn drink of water.

 

 

 

 

it’s four o’clock in the morning and yugyeom isn’t surprised to bump into jaebum in the kitchen. it’s probably the third time that month they’ve met up there, faces still puffy from sleep, squinting into the light and rubbing at their eyes in an effort to wake up enough to be able to go through with their tradition. yugyeom likes to think of it as their tradition. he doesn’t think jaebum does it with anyone else, but he’s never asked.

there are already a small group of already opened bags sitting on the counter in front of the leader, gaze fixed on the contents of the cupboard before him. yugyeom pads forward and crowds up behind the older man, winding his arms around his waist and dipping a hand into one of the bags, curling his fingers around the food inside and popping the handful into his mouth.

the last thing jaebum grabs is some kind of biscuit mark had introduced to them a few weeks ago that the two have since become obsessed with.

they’re both tired when they take what they can to the dining table, shuffling their feet and the chairs in an effort to keep the rest of the group asleep. the light from the kitchen illuminates them as they sit there, sorting through packets upon packets and chewing drowsily on whatever makes its way to their mouth.

yugyeom’s resting his cheek against his fist, head tilted down so he can gaze at his thighs. for a second, jaebum’s sure he’s fallen asleep, until he speaks.

“do you think I should shave my legs?”

jaebum coughs twice, hand coming up to cover his mouth, and stares at the boy across from him. his chewing slows to a stop. “you should… what?”

popping the rest of his biscuit in his mouth, yugyeom chews quietly and rubs his own thigh, the feeling of his pyjama trousers under his palm sending a brief tingling up his arm. he speaks when his mouth is empty, “shave my legs.”

the leader takes yugyeom’s distracted gaze as an opportunity to sort out his expression, finally swallowing his food and leaning back in his chair. he finishes off the chocolate that had melted a little on his fingers, sucking the residue off quickly. “I, uh, if you want to, I guess.”

yugyeom tilts his head enough that he can see the other’s face without much effort. his lashes are dark and thick, spread out like an open fan. “do you think it’d make me more _me_?”

“… I don’t know, gyeomie,” jaebum manages to say through the weird veil that slowly settles over him. “only you can answer that, really.”

yugyeom nods distractedly. long fingers fiddle with the wrapping of a sweet, the quiet crinkling the only sound between the two of them. jaebum follows the movement with his eyes, blindly grasping his glass of milk and downing half of it easily. he’s trying the age-old tradition of drinking a glass when he wakes in an attempt to go back to sleep. god knows he has trouble when he’s woken up too much in a short period of time.

“would you feel more comfortable if you shaved your legs?” he asks, placing the glass as quietly on the table as he can.

the boy doesn’t look at him, instead unwraps the sweet and pops it between pink lips. “I don’t know,” he murmurs reluctantly, brows drawing together and forcing wrinkles to form on his forehead and a scrunching of his nose.

he hesitates for a single second, then leans forward in his seat and places his hand over the younger man’s, letting his fingers curl around. he squeezes briefly. “you can experiment, you know. nobody’s holding you up to any standard. you can do what you want with your body.”

yugyeom gnaws on his bottom lip for a moment and jaebum can just picture him bouncing his leg under the table. “is that what you thought when people were commenting on your weight?”

jaebum blinks then cracks a smile. “it was a little weight. and the last time I checked, my opinion of my body is the one that matters the most. if I’m comfortable like this, then it doesn’t matter as much.”

nodding along almost blindly, yugyeom curls his own fingers around jaebum’s and just holds his hand. the two of them spend the next few minutes in silence, trying to eat what they can with just their one free hand. it leads to the two of them trying to work together to open packets while still holding hands, waving things about and whisper-screaming at each other to _stop_ or **_hold_** _it_ or _pull, for the love of god you cretin_.

by the time they’re interrupted by a tired and annoyed jinyoung wandering down the hall the two of them are laughing behind their hands or into their sleeves, eyes tight crescent moons and hands still clinging to each other.

“if you two don’t put everything away and get back to bed I will be personally responsible for promoting got5,” jinyoung says as he stands at the head of the table, staring the two of them down expressionless.

jaebum’s coughing into his hand when yugyeom pulls away, wiping at his face with his sleeves. the youngest just grins up at jinyoung as he starts gathering half of the food, hugging the packets close to his chest when he stands. he disappears into the kitchen and starts putting everything back into its place when he hears the _smack_ and _ow!_. jaebum enters the kitchen sulkily moments later with the other half of the food.

“you two need to stop doing this.” jinyoung grumbles, scratching the back of his head as he leans against the doorframe. “no wonder the two of you have been looking shit lately; you’re not sleeping enough.”

“very funny, jinyoungie,” jaebum grunts, closing the cupboard and pressing a hand to the small of yugyeom’s back. “can we go to sleep now?”

“s’what you should have been doing in the first place,” the young man mutters. he turns away and wanders down the hall once more, hiding a yawn behind his hand and rubbing at his cheek.

yugyeom allows himself to be guided out of the kitchen and towards the hall. the two of them are now in complete darkness, with the light from the kitchen off, and have to trail their fingers along the wall to make sure they don’t trip over anything.

they reach jaebum’s bedroom first, the man turning his head to whisper a quick, “good night,” before opening the door.

yugyeom reaches out and catches his shirt, pulling on it a little. he steps closer, thinks it over for a second, then hugs the group’s leader briefly. “thanks hyung.”

 

 

 

 

“why are labels so hard?” yugyeom asks as he stares up at the ceiling. his head feels heavy, as if it’s been stuffed with cotton and the smallest weight is allowed to just roll around inside, and his eyes are lidded.

“nobody’s asking you for a label,” jinyoung says from somewhere to his left. he sounds tired and surprised, as if he isn’t expecting this conversation to arise. “look at mark-hyung; he just goes with the flow.”

“mark’s always been more laidback,” the young man whines, scratching his neck. he rests his hand on his chest and lazily circles his fingers around his throat. “it’s probably easier in america, anyway.”

it’s a saturday night, or maybe an early sunday morning, with the sky a deep, dark sea outside the window. the coffee table has a mixture of bottles on it, ranging from wine to beer to juice and rum, allowing cocktails to be introduced into the mix. they hadn’t begun with the idea of getting drunk, no. it had started out with drinking while snacking, video games loud and bright on the tv. jaebum and kunpimook had even been with them at one point in the evening.

but then it had shifted. people left and the three of them got sucked into conversation after conversation, drinking more and eating less until they were happy and blissful, content with lounging about and announcing whatever troubles they had to the ceiling and the occasional deaf ears around them.

there’s a grunt from his right and suddenly a body flops down next to him on the sofa. a leg is thrown over his lap and fingers run through his hair, warmth spreading slowly over his body. he wiggles his arm free and wraps it loosely around mark’s waist.

“why do you want labels, gyeomie?” mark asks, breath warm on yugyeom’s cheek. there’s a part of the young korean man’s mind that is acutely aware of how close mark’s face is to his own.

he shrugs, still gazing at the ceiling. “reassurance?”

“you’re not happy with yourself?” jinyoung asks. he rubs his cheek and snorts loudly, scrunching up in his seat. dark eyes roll over yugyeom’s form from head to toe. “that doesn’t sound like you.”

“I want to know I’m not alone!” yugyeom turns his head to look at mark, searching his face for some kind of understanding and ignoring the third occupant of the room. the foreigner gazes back at him and tugs a little on the strands in his grip. “I want to know other people feel the same way and have put a name to it.”

jinyoung stands and wobbles a little in place, but makes his way over to the two young men on the sofa. he presses in on yugyeom’s other side and rests a hand on mark’s knee, squeezing. “I thought you had this gender thing sorted out?” he mumbles, eyes focusing on the bare skin poking through the hole in mark’s jeans.

“yeah, I do.”

“but?” mark prompts.

“I like… people. but what label do I use?” yugyeom closes his eyes and pushes his head up into mark’s touch. there’s something comforting in the touch. or maybe it isn’t comforting. putting a name to it is too much of a job for him for the moment. all he knows is that it’s _nice_. “I’m not straight. but bisexual doesn’t… feel right.”

“you like girls and boys?” jinyoung noses closer and loops an arm through yugyeom’s, forcing the hand that had previously been resting on the youngest’s chest to rest on jinyoung’s denim clad thigh.

there’s hesitance in yugyeom’s voice when he speaks again. he shifts his head up straight once more but keeps his eyes closed. “I think so. there hasn’t been much opportunity to experiment.”

mark laughs. it’s breathy and quiet and perfect for the conversation when matched with jinyoung’s groan. it shakes his chest and his shoulders and yugyeom is insanely aware of it as it presses against his arm and washes over his cheek in soft puffs.

“please tell me you’ve had your first kiss?” the older vocalist whines, sounding for all the world like a spoilt child.

“I—yes, I have!

mark laughs again, louder this time; his head tilts back and fingers hover inches above yugyeom’s hair. the youngest of the three juts his bottom lip out and huffs loudly, very much pouting where he sits even if he does deny it later. when jinyoung lifts his head to pinch at yugyeom’s cheeks, there’s a lazy grin on the man’s face.

“aw, don’t sulk, yugyeom,” he coos drunkenly, making it sound more like a slur.

“I think I’m going to bed,” yugyeom announces, trying to stand. the combination of alcohol in his system, the leg across his lap and the two bodies pressed against his sides don’t allow him to move, much to his chagrin.

“no, gyeom-ah!” jinyoung clings to yugyeom’s arm, pressing his face deeply into his shoulder.

there is a very short moment where yugyeom tries to push both of them off, the three of them fumbling about on the sofa. it ends up with yugyeom slouched even further into the cushions, mark straddling one of his thighs and jinyoung pushing down on his chest with both hands, very close to straddling the youngest’s other thigh.

“you know,” mark says easily, slowly dragging his fingers down until he can slip two of them through the belt-loops of yugyeom’s jeans, “you could just label yourself with how you feel that day.”

yugyeom eyes the two of them. he’s getting tired, the adrenaline the alcohol had given him when he’d first drunk is wearing off rather quickly and leaving him aching for his comfy bed and the best pillow he’s ever bought with his own money. “I… I guess.”

there’s a lazy, almost crude smile spreading along the eldest’s lips, fingers tugging at the loops. “experimenting is always an option,” mark muses.

“I’m not even sure I like boys,” yugyeom says quietly. he wants to look away from the gaze he’s being sent, from the shift that he’s not sure he wants to be a part of.

“if you’re attracted to guys, you’re attracted to guys,” he continues as if it’s the easiest thing in the world, throwing in a shrug for good measure. but the smile hasn’t left his face and there’s a new tilt to his words that has an excitement slowly oozing in yugyeom’s stomach.

jinyoung nods and finally straddles yugyeom’s other thigh, reaching out to rest a hand on mark’s thigh in order to keep his balance. he leaves it there, fingering the inseam and squeezing. “I knew I liked boys before I kissed one,” he offers.

yugyeom stays quiet, contemplating. he drags his gaze up to the ceiling and breathes deeply through his nose. he’s not in his right mind enough to be able to make educated decisions, he knows, but he can’t really bring himself to think of it as big of a problem as it probably is. instead, all he knows, is that something is being suggested that he’s not picking up on.

jinyoung leans towards mark, squeezing the man’s thigh once more, and whispers in his ear. the young dancer finds his attention drawn on the drag of the other’s lips against the shell of mark’s ear. jinyoung always has had really nice lips. he remembers stumbling along several montages made, consisting simply of close-ups of jinyoung’s mouth in different stages; smiling, talking, open while licking on a lollipop…

“we could help,” mark says and yugyeom’s eyes focus. there’s a heat to his voice that’s replaced the laziness from before, something that’s slowly creeping up and making itself known.

jinyoung’s sat back, lips no longer caressing the skin of mark’s ear, and he’s watching yugyeom’s face attentively with a gaze too sharp for the level of alcohol in his bloodstream. yugyeom’s not sure if the way jinyoung licks his lips when they lock eyes is intentional or not. either way, it makes something burn at the base of his spine.

“you could help,” yugyeom repeats sluggishly.

jinyoung reaches forward and trails fingers across his cheek and tucks hair behind his ear, sending electricity across yugyeom’s skin. “would you let us kiss you, gyeom-ah?”

the young boy feels his heartbeat in every part of his body and blinks wildly, switching his gaze back and forth between the two men in front of him. his breathing picks up until it catches in his throat; he swallows audibly and curls his fingers into fists by his sides, unable to say a word. temptation to give in suddenly overwhelms him. he’d be lying if he said that he had never thought about kissing either of them. or any of his members, actually.

along with growing up, not knowing whether or not he wanted to be the man he was being instructed to become by practically everyone around him, he found himself admiring the male sex more and more sexually and appreciatively than others. growing up, comments he’d thrown out about strangers or even mutual friends had earned him weird looks and comments between laughter about how _gay it was_.

so when he’d met the six boys who he would later debut with, he’d been blown away by the different types of _attractive_ that were staring him in the face. even now, as the boys had grown into young men, yugyeom finds himself daydreaming more and more, just _wondering_ and _picturing_ and _imagining_.

“it’s just experimenting,” jinyoung says with a slow growing smile, bringing yugyeom back down to earth.

“and you can trust us,” mark murmurs, moving forward. he rests his forearm against the back of the sofa by yugyeom’s head and trails his other hand over the youngest’s stomach. “we just want to help you.”

yugyeom’s staring mark in the eye, the dim light casting shadows over his face and making the foreigner look even more attractive than usual. suddenly, the maknae’s mouth is too dry and swallowing is both a chore and painful, something he doesn’t want to do but needs to. he focuses on the eldest before him, but manages to spy jinyoung’s face when he speaks up.

“we’re your hyungs; let us take care of you.”

he’s nodding, unable to stop himself until mark’s leaning in close, breath washing over his face and then suddenly lips are on his.

he wishes he could describe it how he’s seen it described; as if kissing mark would invoke feelings in him that he didn’t know. it’s on the tip of his tongue, to say that mark tastes like liquor and freedom or even desire and knowing, but he doesn’t. all yugyeom feels is the warmth and pressure on his lips and the taste of alcohol mixing on his tongue. with his eyes closed, he could be kissing anyone, he realises. there isn’t a blatant difference.

raising a hand, he curls his fingers around mark’s hip and squeezes, tilting his head just a little in a way that allows them to slot together better. there’s a tongue in his mouth, lazy and slow, smooth and dragging against his own. he decides that it doesn’t feel weird, this kissing boys. it’s just like kissing girls, like kissing anyone.

mark pulls back, their lips parting audibly. his nose brushes against yugyeom’s when he sits back, eyes on the youngest’s face and flittering over his features. the boy opens his eyes and looks back, breathing hard and lips tingling. he swallows and leans his head back, suddenly feeling that same light-headedness swim through his mind once more.

“what do you think, yugyeomie?” the young man asks.

yugyeom licks his lips, spies mark’s eyes following the movement out of the corner of his eyes, and stares stubbornly at jinyoung. “I don’t know.”

“you don’t know?” jinyoung asks and raises his eyebrows.

adamant, he shakes his head and boldly keeps his gaze pinned with the other’s. “I don’t know.”

mark’s smiling again, worryingly wide and smug. “I think, jinyoungie, that maybe you should help yugyeom make up his mind.”

jinyoung looks at the foreigner with his raised eyebrows and tilts his head. “and how do you suppose I do that?” he leans in a little closer, squeezing mark’s thigh as he goes. “I don’t think he’d find it very helpful to watch us kiss, mark, as much as I’m sure you want to.”

yugyeom’s mouth feels dry again and he swallows helplessly, eyes darting back and forth between the two of them. this isn’t what he’d been thinking of, or what he tried to insinuate and he was almost sure mark had picked up on. but now he’s not so sure, because as he’s watching, jinyoung and mark are leaning closer and closer.

when they’re lips brush together teasingly, and then finally slot together perfectly, yugyeom’s breath stops in his chest. he’s sure he’s fallen into a trance, watching the way jinyoung works his jaw and mark falls into his rhythm, trapping his bottom lip between his teeth and capturing the other’s mouth again and again every time they part, kisses slow and unhurried, familiar.

they part for a final time, noses bumping together, until jinyoung turns, spies yugyeom lurking out of the corner of his eye, and leans forward. he rests his hands on yugyeom’s chest, the weight forcing the breath out of the youngest’s lungs. he says nothing, just kisses him. kisses him soft and gentle, with less pressure than mark but a different goal for it all. he caresses his lips and doesn’t let yugyeom open his mouth, just keeps it safe and soft.

there could be a difference now. between mark and jinyoung. mark’s lips are firm and demanding, they know what they want and take control. yugyeom thinks that mark’s brain is subconsciously always thinking of the next two seconds and what’s going to happen in them. but jinyoung is very much in the moment, with softer lips, plump. ones that would ping back into places after being trapped between teeth.

“do you know now?” jinyoung murmurs against his mouth, breath mingling, and when yugyeom opens his eyes slowly, he spies the other’s own heavy-lidded gaze staring right back at him.

“I think so.”

“you think so?” jinyoung tuts and shakes his head. “that won’t do at all.”

“we’ll help make sure you know for sure,” mark says from behind jinyoung, and next thing yugyeom knows, there are fingers in jinyoung’s hair that aren’t his own and lips are suffocating him again.

 

 

 

 

yugyeom throws his head back and feels more than hears the thud as it collides with the door behind him. his skin feels too warm for his clothes, for the air around him, and it makes the sweat that dots his hairline and trickle down the back of his neck stand out even more. he’s pretty sure his eyes are dark and they’re heavy-lidded, straining to stay open.

he looks down and focuses on youngjae, on the way his hair swishes with each bob, on his pretty lips that look more red than pink, for once, on the way he doesn’t shy away from gripping him tight, this close to being painful. but, honestly, yugyeom would be a liar if he said he didn’t like it, if he said he wasn’t enjoying himself. and he’s certain that the moan that slips from his lips when his legs finally give out as a powerful spike of pleasure shoots up his spine would agree with it.

the floor is cold against his exposed skin when he sits, knees bent and spread to accommodate the boy kneeling between them. he whines when youngjae detaches himself with an audible, almost filthy pop, and instead moves his hand slowly up and down, up and down, dark eyes plastered to yugyeom’s face and never wavering.

how did they get in this position? when did youngjae think this was a good idea? mark surprised yugyeom by buying the skirt he’d seen in the shop and he put it on, showing it off to the whole group happily. compliments on his legs and the skirt itself had made his spirits rise and it was a good day. it was a good day because he felt pretty and desirable. apparently, he isn’t the only one who thought so.

youngjae’s other hand runs over yugyeom’s bare thigh, forcing the maknae to shiver, and stops where the skirt is gathered at the crux of his hip and groin; the fabric is soft and folding in on itself in lovely pleats, pushed up and out of the way to allow the elder of the two access.

“do you know how pretty you look, yugyeomie?” youngjae asks, leaning closer as he fists the skirt, pumping his hand faster. he stops inches away from yugyeom’s face, watching the way his cheeks colour more and more, moans slipping more frequently from his dark and kiss swollen lips. “do you know how you make oppa feel?”

ever since the kisses with mark and jinyoung, things have changed for yugyeom.

they weren’t very obvious at the beginning, and yugyeom was sure that it was only between the three of them; their touches lingered longer, their touches became more and more, actually. and there were more kisses behind closed doors. kisses and hugs and intimate moments that yugyeom finds himself looking forward to more and more and actively seeking out. he was already close to the two of them, but this seems to have brought them closer in a different way.

it seems that kunpimook, at some point, caught on and started giving more affection to yugyeom, too. it isn’t unusual for the two of them to be intimate, as their friendship had stretched to accommodate such a movement a long while ago, something that they decided to chalk up to being best friends and doing practically everything together. so that didn’t tip anything off, it just made yugyeom feel more cared for than before.

but he has also started to gain attention from the others. youngjae would make bolder moves, force yugyeom to hold him or sit next to him more often than before, not that he’s complaining. it’s nice, being next to youngjae when the two of them lose it completely, youngjae smacking his arm and shoulder harshly while he claps loudly, unable to keep himself still.

jackson clings more and more with his hugs, randomly popping in now and then to just share a bed with him with one of the most ridiculous excuses he’s ever heard. his praises have gotten more and more intimate, longer and with so many more subtle jabs at secrets yugyeom had told him in the past. it’s touching and makes yugyeom smile fondly whenever he remembers.

and jaebum would wrap an arm around his shoulders more and more. he’s been using the term “dancing friends” more often when getting close to yugyeom, as if he ever really needs an excuse to just hug the maknae or wrap an arm around his waist, or whatever it is he wants to do.

youngjae pulls the hands hiding yugyeom’s face away and leans forward to capture his lips. he swallows the moans as they come, moving his hand faster and faster until yugyeom’s scrambling, hands fisting youngjae’s shirt and hips stuttering.

 

 

 

 

late afternoon finds yugyeom slumped on the sofa with his phone in hand and reruns of a drama he's already seen flickering on the tv screen. truthfully, he'd put it on for background noise. the flat is eerily quiet and although he isn't yet at the point where he wants to ask someone if they'll stay home with him, he still doesn't do well on his own for too long. 

there's a small amount of hope in his chest when he hears keys in the lock. a look up from his phone shows him a tired but clean looking jackson with his gym bag slung over his shoulder. the chinese man dumps his bag unceremoniously on the dining table, pads around the massage chair, and promptly falls onto the sofa — but mostly on yugyeom.

"ah, hyung," he whines immediately, trying to shrug away from jackson in such a way that requires as little energy as necessary.

"don't move," jackson murmurs in turn and worms his arms around yugyeom's waist, throwing a leg over his lap as an added effort. "you're comfy. and I'm clean."

"oh, so I have no room to complain?" the maknae says, giving up getting a rather tired young man off him. instead, he loops an arm around jackson's shoulders so he can still hold his phone comfortably in both hands. 

"look," the blond says, head somehow making it onto his chest, "I'm not gross right now so you should feel blessed."

"how nice of you to consider my feelings."

jackson doesn't say anything more, instead keeps his cheek pressed to yugyeom's face and loosens his hold around the youngest's waist just enough to be more comfortable than before. the drama is still playing on in the background but yugyeom's eyes slide over the screen of his phone, taking in photo after photo of different people's ways of presenting their non-binary selves. 

they're all so pretty, he thinks. 

"what are you looking at?"

yugyeom looks down at the top of his friend's head and gives a one-shouldered shrug. "just photos."

"mm." jackson shifts about and next thing yugyeom knows, he's being moved to lay down almost completely on the sofa, back propped up by the curve on the end and jackson has pressed himself between the back of the sofa and his side. yugyeom watches as jackson takes his phone from him and starts scrolling himself. 

"oh," he says, stopping several times on different photos. "they're pretty. but I can't find the theme?" he tilts his head back to look at the other curiously. 

"they're, um, they're non-binary."

“ah.”

yugyeom watches jackson scroll down again, moving a bit slower this time. he tries not to feel hyperaware of what could possibly be going through the chinese native’s head, about what thoughts he could possibly be having. because this isn’t a problem; this being what he is, what he thinks he is. jackson was the only one who took it in his stride as quickly as he did. the others had needed adjustment periods and he can’t blame them for that. it’s pretty new to all of them.

so he focuses instead on what jackson said; they’re pretty. is he pretty? he likes to think he is. whether he’s wearing jeans and his favourite t-shirt or the few skirts and dresses he’s managed to accumulate over the past few months. he smiles when he thinks back to the surprise youngjae and jaebum had prepared for him; another wig other than the one they need for their _dumb dumb_ stage.

“are you still comfortable as yugyeom?” the blond asks out of nowhere.

the maknae just stares. away in his own world, he’s trying to scramble out of the realm of self-reflection into a head space where he can answer his friend. the lack of reply forces jackson to get off of him and sit up straight, one knee bent flat on the sofa, foot tucked behind his other knee. he rests his hand with yugyeom’s phone on his thigh and keeps his attention completely on the other boy.

“you know, your name. yugyeom. is it okay?”

there’s something in his chest and he smiles. he smiles and it might hurt his cheeks, it might look just this side of ridiculous, but he doesn’t care. trust jackson to be the one to ask. “yeah.”

“and your pronouns,” jackson continues. “they’re okay, too?”

he nods. “most days.”

jackson looks pensive, eyes darting around yugyeom’s face. they linger on his gaze for a moment, then dart up to his hair and down to his lips. “you know, if there’s anything you want to do — want _us_ to do — you can just say something, right?”

“what’s brought this on?” yugyeom asks. he sits up better and pats his lap. perhaps it’s something unusual, this interaction they have. because jackson doesn’t look very surprised, instead he crawls forward — careful not to knee him anywhere — and sits on his lap quite happily.

“nothing,” he says genuinely. he hands the phone back and shrugs, sitting so he’s sideways on yugyeom’s lap with his back against the sofa. “I just want to make sure that you’re okay.”

he smiles again, wider this time. he’s honestly blessed so much to have friends like these, he thinks. nobody else would take better care of him. “that’s very sweet of you.”

jackson stares at him openly and he’s always been like this. he tries so hard to hide himself sometimes, times where he doesn’t think people should know, and he tends to fail. but it’s okay, because they can take care of him. they love him, in all of his genuine glory.“because you know we love you the way you are, right?”

“I— yeah. yeah I do.”

jackson nods, thoughtful. he tries to move, but he ends up slipping between yugyeom’s thigh and the sofa, looking unimpressed and it makes the maknae laugh. he laughs until he’s calmed down enough to spot the blond’s pursed lips. he leans forward and easily kisses the other, changing his position so he can curl around him when he feels an arm circle around his shoulders.

“this is about you. and what you feel comfortable with.” jackson says. he squeezes yugyeom’s bicep and rests his head atop of the other’s. “I don’t fully understand. none of us do. but if we ever step out of line, you need to tell us, okay?”

yugyeom’s smile might be a bit watery now, but that’s okay. it’s all okay.

the moment is broken abruptly by the front door opening for the second time that day. the two of them look over and watch as kunpimook wanders in with plastic bags clutched in his hands, trying to toe off his shoes without scuffing them too much and balancing on one leg. ultimately, it doesn’t end well and jackson practically leaps up from the sofa to help the poor boy out.

“ah, jackson-hyung,” kunpimook says, graciously handing his bags over so he can take his shoes off easily. he looks over to the sofa and spies yugyeom’s face, giving his best friend a grin. “hey.”

“what have you got, bambam?” jackson asks, trying to both peer into the bags and hold them in such a fashion that the handles won’t break from the weight of the contents.

the thai man makes shooing motions towards the kitchen. “food. snacks. for yugyeom.”

jackson stops in his tracks and turns dramatically to stare at the boy, the look of utter betrayal on his face making yugyeom laugh loud and sharp, quickly slapping a hand over his mouth when kunpimook looks over. the crinkled grin on his face that push his eyes into crescent moons and shaking shoulders give him away.

“you never pay for anything,” jackson says accusingly and a bag slips dangerously, slowly. the three of them are stuck watching it slide down the chinese man’s stomach until it thuds against the floor. “you never pay for anything and now you’re paying for yugyeom.”

kunpimook has the calmest look on his face as he bends down to pick up the fallen items, pulling the bag into his arms and squeezing past jackson into the kitchen. yugyeom drops the hand hiding his mouth and moves off the sofa.

“these are all filled with his favourites!”

yugyeom leans against the doorframe, unable to keep the wide smile on his face as jackson jabs his finger again and again into the boy’s arm. kunpimook slaps at his hand again and again, a whine bubbling in the back of his throat.

“how could you!” jackson’s dramatics up themselves as he walks away, hand on his heart and body leaning away from the second youngest. “use your money to buy _one person_ food. _and that person isn’t even_ ** _yourself_**.”

yugyeom’s laughing again, leaning heavily against the doorframe with his mouth open and it’s all teeth, gum and tongue. kunpimook steps forward and tries to grab onto jackson, who’s fighting him every step of the way. the kitchen is not big. it really isn’t, so jackson ends up pressed against the counter with the epitome of disgust on his face and kunpimook on his knees in front of him, gripping the hem of his jumper between his fingers.

“jackson-hyung, please,” he whines, and it’s loud and high and makes yugyeom cringe but jackson continues to gaze. “please, I just wanted to treat him—”

“what about me!?”

“… what about _you_?”

“I deserve to be treated, too, don’t I? what makes him so special?”

yugyeom’s breathless at this point, from the tones they’re using to their faces, to the topic itself, he’s filled with a bubbly happiness that can’t be contained in any other way. he thinks about how he’s stuck with these six men, these six dorks that have never made him feel anything other than loved and supported. it’s okay. all of this is okay, he finds. he doesn’t think he could have found a better group of people anywhere else.

 

 

 

 

“are you okay?” jaebum asks. he spins a half-empty packet around and around on the table, stubbornly keeping his eyes on it, nearly like he can’t allow himself to look yugyeom in the eye.

yugyeom blinks and looks up from his own food, mouth stopping mid-chew. he swallows and lowers his hand, openly gazing along the features of his leader and wondering if they were going to have a conversation this time during their midnight snack. he sits back just a little in his chair and cocks his head. “yeah, I am. why?”

the leader shrugs, shoulders freezing up by his ears for a second too long, then lowering far too quickly. the man looks almost jumpy, uncomfortable and stiff, and yugyeom tries to think if they’d had any problems recently that could have caused it. “you haven’t come to me much, lately. just wanted to check up on you.”

there’s a small smile on yugyeom’s face. “oh.” his voice is soft and he can’t find it in him to be harsher than that. there’s a muted softness that follows a warmth, spreading out from his core to the tips of his fingers.

it’s not quite four am this time, closer to midnight. yugyeom’s pretty sure that youngjae is still awake in his and mark’s room, playing something on his phone, most probably, while he suspects that the others are all sleeping, having dropped off at varying times during the evening. but even so, with the idea that their midnight snack isn’t as private as usual, it still feels like it’s only them in the quiet and calm of the flat, and it’s nice. it’s real nice.

so the youngest crosses his ankles and chooses to just watch over his leader with a tilted head. he rests his jaw on his hand, happy to look on as jaebum eats. when eyes raise to meet his, he picks up the nearest snack, opens it, and takes as bite.

after a few more mouthfuls, yugyeom says, “I shaved my legs, you know.”

jaebum coughs. it’s comical, and there’s a grin on the maknae’s face now, because the man was this close to thumping himself on the chest with his fist. his eyes are a little watery when he looks over at yugyeom again, voice just a bit raw. “what.”

“I took what you said into account and decided to experiment,” yugyeom says with a shrug, grin lessening into a smile that holds all of the amusement but none of the malicious humour, leaning his elbows on the table and fiddling with his own empty wrapper, ripping it apart slowly. “it feels…. nice. but I don’t know if I’ll do it regularly.”

“that’s…. that’s okay,” jaebum mumbles. he looks a little lost. he’s pressing his palms against the surface of the table and chewing what food is left in his mouth, eyes skittering over their little meal. he swallows before he speaks again. “you can do what you want.”

“yeah.” yugyeom keeps the ripped bits of wrapper in a neat pile to the right of him on the table, pressing his hands together between his thighs and shoulders bunching up around his ears. “so I wanted to say thank you.”

“thank you?” the lost look gives into something with more confusion, perplexed, even. jaebum looks at him as if he’s suddenly announcing that everything he’s ever known is a lie and there’s no such thing as the human race.

“for your words before.” he nods, and suddenly he feels too self-conscious. he can feel the tips of his ears burning, the back of his neck following suit and he wants nothing more than to curl into himself or turn his head away so his hair will cover his face. but he doesn’t. “and your support.”

jaebum swallows, blinks slowly. yugyeom’s about to ask him if he’s okay, if there’s something wrong, if he overstepped a boundary, when jaebum suddenly waves a hand at him. his actions are still a little jerky. “oh. oh, no. it’s okay. you’re… you’re like family.”

if he didn’t feel embarrassed before, he sure does now.

yugyeom’s face lights up and he laughs out his own awkwardness, turning his head away in an attempt to press his nose against his own shoulder. his eyes close but his grin grows and he doesn’t know what to do. he feels warm and gentle, like he’s been wrapped in cotton and tucked away into a small corner. he thinks it might be a ridiculous feeling, but it doesn’t seem to be going anywhere.

the sound of the chair before him shifting along the floor makes him look up. jaebum stands, moving the chair as quietly as possible, and rounds the table. he pulls out the chair beside yugyeom and sits sideways on it, facing the maknae, and that’s where the youngest notices that he looks nervous, almost. he blinks expectantly at him, leaning towards him unconsciously.

jaebum looks at him, resting a hand on the back of his chair, and he falters. he grinds his teeth together a little, bounces a knee, and then shakes his head. yugyeom turns to sit sideways on his chair, too, and nudges jaebum’s knee with his own.

“you’re like family to me, too, oppa,” he says with that same, silly smile.

there’s fingers running through jaebum’s hair, pushing strands away from his face and then cupping the back of his neck. they stay there, pressing gently into the skin, and yugyeom tries to catch jaebum’s gaze, but the man seems to be stubbornly looking away.

“what’s wrong, oppa?” he asks softly, nudging the man’s knee with his again. “I didn’t… say something weird, did I?”

jaebum shakes his head, lets out a deep breath, and then finally looks yugyeom in the eye. his hand drops from the back of his neck and rests on his thigh. “you haven’t done anything weird, gyeom-ah.”

he tilts his head. his brows come together but he still smiles tentatively, lips slowly meeting. he looks down at jaebum’s hands and decides to sacrifice the warmth between his thighs to hold one. so he sandwiches one of jaebum’s hands between his, running his fingertips over ridges and dips.

“so, what’s the problem?” he inquires, voice just a little louder than before.

there’s an audible swallow and he looks up, from under his lashes, lips parted ever so slightly in concentration. jaebum looks a little strained, so he stops his tracing, just holds the older’s hand gently in his.

“I, uh.”

yugyeom waits, eyes pinned and he swears jaebum’s cheeks flush and something flickers in his gaze, but he can’t put his finger on what.

“… I think I like you, gyeomie.”

it’s the quietest whisper he’s heard all night but it’s clear as day. if he had been moving, he’d have frozen. if you count, it takes him about four seconds for his brain to kick itself back into gear and stutter back into the real world.

“yo-you do?”

jaebum looks away from him and there is definitely colour to his cheeks, now. he’s bouncing his leg again and looks like he wants nothing more than to stand and walk away. but his hand is still pressed between yugyeom’s; it hasn’t moved a single inch.

yugyeom swallows quietly and looks down at the hand, running his fingers over the knuckles and along the digits. soft but rough. something he didn’t think would be possible, and yet it is. he chews on the inside of his cheek and resists the urge to fidget in his seat. one of them is already nervous, it wouldn’t do if the both of them were too nervous to do anything.

so he lets go of the inside of his cheek and shuffles closer just a little closer, one of his knees slipping between jaebum’s, and he leans forward. he spies wide eyes and feels no breath just before he presses his lips gently against his leader’s.

there’s a moment where neither of them do anything. or rather, yugyeom tries to kiss jaebum only to get little to no response. he tries not to take it to heart, but it only takes three long seconds for jaebum to reach up and push him away with his free hand. he goes willingly, gnawing on his bottom lip.

“yugyeomie,” jaebum says quietly, hold on his shoulder strong and secure but not bruising. he flickers his gaze between yugyeom’s eyes, and what the youngest sees in them makes him nervous. “you’re not just doing this because of oppa’s confession, are you?”

he blinks and leans back further in his chair. “well, it helped.”

jaebum drops his hand and sighs. he retracts his hand from yugyeom’s as well and rubs at his face. his nails scrape at his jaw, chin, neck. yugyeom wants to reach out and pull them away, save his skin from the abuse. he can’t see very well in the bad lighting, but he’s sure angry red lines are gazing at him.

“yugyeom. you can’t just… don’t kiss people out of pity,” the young man mutters, dropping his hands loudly. his back is bowed and shoulders hunched and he looks so much like a scolded child that it only adds salt to the wound. “it’s not nice and it doesn’t solve anything.”

“kiss… kiss people out of _pity_?” he repeats, baffled.

he nods. “I know you hate making people upset because of you and you really want to help but doing that will only hurt them more.” jaebum tries giving the other a glance, but he looks once at the expression on the maknae’s face and looks away. he straightens out his back before too much strain gets put on it.

yugyeom stares at him openly, lips still parted in concentration. he runs his tongue over them before he replies. he might be hanging around mark too much. “you think I kissed you out of pity.”

there’s definitely more colour than usual on the leader’s face by this point and his face crumbles into an embarrassed frown, arms crossing over his chest. he doesn’t slouch, but his shoulders definitely droop a little. “well… well, yeah. because that’s why you did it, isn’t it?”

“I— oppa,” he says, and there’s a warm softness to his edges now.

jaebum bristles. “what.”

“I didn’t kiss you out of pity,” he says, smile soft and small on his face. he shuffles a bit on his chair and scratches at his knee. the awkward laughter is back again and now it’s his turn to shake his head. “I like you, too, oppa.”

the older of the two stops and is close to gaping. yugyeom’s only seen that expression on his face a handful of times, so it makes his laughter a little louder, a little brighter, and he has to stifle it behind his hand. only the crescent shapes of his eyes are visible for a moment until he can control himself enough to stop laughing.

“I like you,” he repeats, nudging jaebum’s knee with his one last time.

nervously, jaebum nudges his knee back. he’s still not looking at his face. “are you sure?”

his laugh is loud, short; like a sharp burst. he doesn’t think he’s laughed this much at something that isn’t funny. and next thing he knows, he’s peeling the other man’s hand from his mouth so he can speak. “I’m very sure.”

“but—” the leader looks more lost than before, hand going limp in yugyeom’s hold. he chooses to hold the man’s hand against his cheek, leaning into the warmth as said man gathers his thoughts. “but what about bammie? I-I was sure I’d seen you two…”

yugyeom just nods, eyes never leaving jaebum’s face. “mark and jinyoung, too,” he adds, thumb rubbing the back of jaebum’s hand. “and youngjae.”

“and—” he stops. his teeth grind together. yugyeom’s gaze follows the movement of his jaw. “how long has this been going on?”

“I can’t give you an exact date, oppa,” yugyeom says with a small shrug. “it just kind of… developed, I guess. things got closer and closer until it just felt… okay. natural.”

he stares at where his hand is cupping the youngest boy’s cheek. hesitantly, his thumb runs over the apple of his cheek. “natural, huh?”

“they’ve helped me, oppa. they’ve helped me so much.” he pulls his face away, dropping jaebum’s hand so the man can take it away if he wants. he’s surprised when, instead, he locks their hands together. “whether it was to make me feel more me or… or help me with not knowing who I liked it was… I owe them. I owe them a lot.”

jaebum nods once, swallowing audibly. he looks like he’s thinking, yugyeom notices, eyes trained on their linked hands just a little too intense to be casual observation. “it hasn’t… it isn’t going to end ugly, is it?”

yugyeom tilts his head towards the other, all traces of smiles and amusement gone. “jaebum-oppa, everyone here puts the group first; got7 is always the main priority. none of us are naïve going in this.”

“we’re all young, gyeom-ah,” he mutters. raising their hands from yugyeom’s lap, it’s his turn to play with one hand between his own. he goes about bending fingers, curling them around his own, gently rubbing circles in the palm.

“and we know the consequences.”

jaebum’s eyes snap up to stare straight into yugyeom’s. he doesn’t stop the ministrations on the boy’s hand. “and yet you are still going through with this.”

“because it feels like it’s going to be long. maybe not forever, but long enough that it’ll survive got7 and feel like forever.” he pops his back with a small wince. it’s awkward, because he has to keep his hand in place but what was once a really comfortable position is now doing more bad than good. “we’re not going to hold anything against you, if you want to walk into it or stay outside.”

jaebum’s teeth are grinding again.

“it’s your life and your choice,” yugyeom whispers.

jaebum kisses him this time.

 

 

 

 

it’s been on his mind for quite a few years. not necessarily a weight, more a curiosity. a curiosity for something enforced on the half of the population that he’s not part of. a curiosity for the customs, expectations, appearance of that other half. he watches them in amazement, loses himself in the mannerisms they grow into, the nature that surrounds them all. it’s delicate and soft in a way he isn’t, in a way his half of the population could never be. it makes him sad.

he wants to join in. there was a time, when he was six, that he told a girl he liked her dress and her and all her friends played around with his hair and made him feel pretty. his mother didn’t understand and wouldn’t let him keep his hair like that.

it’s still a curiosity, sometimes. bits and pieces that he sees that he will never truly be able to take a part in. more public things, mind you. because behind closed doors, he can wear skirts and dresses and wigs. he can do his make-up on days where he’s clad in jeans and oversized jumpers. he can curl up and make himself small against jaebum or mark. he can share lazy kisses with kunpimook when it’s dusk and they’re beyond exhausted, sharing a bad despite the warmth their room provides.

he can call them _oppa_ and have them use the pronouns he feels like that day and he doesn’t have to worry. he can have bows and clips in his hair, lipstick and eyeshadow on his face, and they’ll still grin at him like they usually do, still joke around. but he notices the way they change subtly when he identifies as a girl. the way they normally act around other girls, with shy smiles and less boyish antics and teasing amongst themselves about the cute girl and who’s going to ask her out.

it may not be perfect, but neither is he, neither are they. he’s comfortable, he’s himself. she’s comfortable, she’s herself. they’re comfortable, they’re themselves.

that’s more than he could ask for.


End file.
